


The Gods Took Him Too Soon

by brandedwithfire



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandedwithfire/pseuds/brandedwithfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron had always thought death would be a glorious end. That is since he had been sold into the ludus and taken up the sword of a Gladiator. He had figured that he would find his fate upon the end of a sword – a spear he had always found ways to dodge but the simple sword presented more of a challenge. He would feel the dust and blood of the arena upon his skin and close his eyes to the roar of the crowd, their cheers the last thing he would hear as he crossed to the unknown.  Never once did he think he would meet his end like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gods Took Him Too Soon

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever piece of fanfiction... please be gentle!
> 
> A BIG thank you to gaygreekgladiator for your encouragement, support and guidance <3

Agron had always thought death would be a glorious end. That is since he had been sold into the ludus and taken up the sword of a Gladiator. He had figured that he would find his fate upon the end of a sword – a spear he had always found ways to dodge but the simple sword presented more of a challenge. He would feel the dust and blood of the arena upon his skin and close his eyes to the roar of the crowd, their cheers the last thing he would hear as he crossed to the unknown. Never once did he think he would meet his end like this. 

Perhaps it was the Gods mocking him for Duro’s - death, one brother given a quick clean end, the other left to languish in agonizing pain forced to watch the man he loved suffer. That day something had been wrong although Agron could never quite figure out what. He just felt wrong, slower, distracted. His thoughts that day had finally dared to turn to a life beyond this war. Maybe the idea of freedom had grown too strong, the taste ever upon his tongue. Even that morning his thoughts had turned to home, a life beyond Rome back East of the Rhine. He would herd goats again, just as he and Duro had done when they were boys. Nasir had laughed but Agron had seen the sparkle in his lover’s eyes. It was an idea that had appealed to him too. Perhaps not the goats so much but the mere thought of life away from blood and glory.  
Why then, with such thoughts curling his mind, had Agron not dodged when the blade thrust at his belly?

He should have moved, if only he had moved then he would not be lying in such agonising pain. The fire burned his insides, the warm blood soaking the bandages around his wound until they were wet and useless. The heat was ever upon him, beads of sweat tumbling down his brow. He shook and trembled, the action only caused him to bite his lip as the pain crashed over his stomach. He knew this was the end and what was worse, Nasir knew it too.

He could see it in his lover’s eyes, dark orbs that stared down at him as though trying to memorize every last line upon his face. Dark eyes that were constantly darting back and forth searching for a cure that would never come. Sometimes Nasir’s thick lips would part as though trying to speak but the words never came, instead they hung heavily upon his tongue never spoken. Calloused fingers continuously ran over his brow, skirting through damp hair in attempt to sooth Even Nasir’s comforting touch could not quench the fire and pain that burned within Agron’s belly. 

“I am not going to die,” Agron breathed through clenched teeth, beads of sweat rolling silently down his temples.

“Of course you’re not, I cannot tend the goats without you,” Nasir replied, a pained smile forced upon his thick lips. 

As Agron lay upon the bed and Nasir sat hand rested upon Agron’s bare chest they both knew Agron’s words would not ring true. It was only a matter of time before his eyes would close and never open again. 

In the end the Gods took him too soon, ripped him from life when he had only just found his heart. Agron did not know if it was day or night when he finally closed his eyes for the final time – all he knew was the sadness in those beautiful brown eyes that looked down upon him. It was not the roar of the crowed that filled his ears as he passed over, the cheers and cries of thousands, it was but one voice. A single voice calling his name over and over and over.  
After the voice had finally faded from ear, Agron found that death was not quite as glorious as he had once imagined. There were no Gods waiting to praise him for his glorious battles, no fountains of ever flowing wine for Agron to drink himself into a stupor. No rolling hills of green grass as far as the eye could see or barely clothed men all vying for his attention. There was nothing like that, in fact there was simply nothing at all.

Battle and blood and guts and brains had always been the greatest thrill for the Agron. A rush of power shooting through his body from limb to limb which pushed him to run faster and fight harder. The anticipation of the battle, the waiting had always been the hardest for Agron. Even as a child he had hated waiting but this, this waiting in nothing but limbo was the cruellest fate of all.

Perhaps it was the lives he had taken, hundreds of faces all mashed together in a blur that he no longer could distinguish one from another. Tall, short, fat, thin, he had killed them all. Some quick and effortless, others more skilled who had put up a challenge but he was always quicker, always stronger. He had taken their lives before they could take his and now it seemed he was being punished for such acts.

Sometimes in the distance Agron could have sworn he could see Barca, the gladiator whom he knew from tales at the ludus whom had died before Spartacus and the others had even tempted escape from Batiatus. Brow furrowed, Agron tried to hear what Barca was saying but he could never place the words. All he knew was that it was a name, the dark skinned gladiator was calling for someone. Sometimes screaming the name, others times calling in desperation. Yet no matter how loud he called, no matter how urgent his voice was, whoever he was searching for never came. It was as though Barca was damned to call for all his long years in limbo, calling a name that would never answer him.  
At first Agron had done the same, calling Duro’s name until his throat was raw and his lungs screamed for air. He would walk endlessly never quite sure which way he was moving. His head would turn from side to side, big green eyes always searching for the brother he had lost. Yet try as he might, feet aching from the days and weeks spent walking, Agron could never find his brother. Wherever Duro was it was not in this place. Perhaps it was for the best for this place was worse than the cruellest fate Agron could imagine. 

Despite his love for his brother, Agron’s heart always ached for Nasir, to see those deep brown eyes again. Not filled with sadness and pain as they had been that very last time but once more filled with laughter and joy as they had been so many times before. Just to see Nasir, a single glimpse of the Syrian’s smile which would curl his lips upwards from ear to ear. Nasir always wore his emotions upon his shoulder, his joy washing over him like a wave causing him to laugh without care. What Agron would not give just to see that smile again.

Agron knew such thoughts were selfish; to see Nasir again would mean the other man’s death. He too would be ripped from the world of the living, brought into this limbo that held only loneliness and pain. Yet if Nasir was here with him there would be no empty loneliness, an existence filled with neither joy nor pain. And so Agron was torn, to wait out his days in this purgatory or to have his heart again.

Finally the Gods had decided to take pity on his aching soul. Agron had not known how long he had been waiting, a day, a week, a month - it could have been years for all he knew for time had no meaning here. There was no dawn, no dusk, no sleep, just the empty waiting. Yet when he heard his name it was as though no time had passed at all. His name called as clear and as familiar as the morning sky. 

Turning to face the voice that called him Agron’s lips curled upwards in a smile as he once more saw those deep brown eyes. With a laugh that rumbled through his body Agron reached out his arms and happily spoke, 

“I’ve missed you, little man.”


End file.
